Murder, Handcrafted (Amish Quilt Shop Mystery) (20 page)

“I
said it’s time for you to go,” Mallory said to me again, this time through gritted teeth.

“Everything okay, Mal?” the man asked, appraising me while he spoke.

“Yes,” she said. “Everything’s fine. This customer was just leaving. We didn’t have what she needed.”

I was relieved that she hadn’t said my true purpose for coming to the store or the fact that I sort of misled her into believing I was a police officer.

I gave the lovely little nightstand a mournful look, and Oliver and I headed for the door.

I turned as I reached the door. “You should speak to Linda. I know she’d love to hear from someone who cared about Griff as much as she did.”

Mallory folded her arms and glared at me.

I sighed and walked out into the sunlight.

Giving Oliver a boost into my car, I said, “Maybe the hat was a bad idea.”

He gave me a look that said, “I told you so.”

By the time Oliver and I returned to Running Stitch,
it was only a half hour before the shop closed. Sugartree Street was quieting down, and I felt it was late enough in the day to take one of the diagonal parking spots in front of my quilt shop. Typically, I left those for the tourists.

Mattie must have seen me coming down the street because she opened the door for Oliver and me. “That cat of yours has been a complete terror.”

Oliver ran into the shop to check on his charge. Dodger was curled up in Oliver’s dog bed, sound asleep. It looked like the contented slumber of the victorious to me.

Mattie waved a pot holder at me. “Look what he did to this!”

I slung my bag on the sales counter and took the pot holder that Mattie offered. The front of the pot holder had been slashed. I flipped it over. The back wasn’t much better.

“When I saw he had it, I tried to get it away from him, and the little monster took off with it. It took quite a battle to get it back.”

I winced. I didn’t doubt it, but at the same time I hid a smile. I would have loved to see Mattie in her Amish lavender dress chasing Dodger all over the shop with the pot holder in his mouth.

Dodger opened one eye and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. The faker wasn’t even sleeping.

“You can’t keep bringing him here if he’s going to destroy the merchandise.” Mattie folded her arms.

She had a point, but before I could answer, the little
bell on the shop’s door jingled and Zander bounded inside. “Angie!” he cried.

His mother, Hillary, came in after him. She was breathtakingly beautiful with long, straight raven-colored hair, which I’d envied since the moment I had met her. Zander had his mother’s hair and his father’s eyes. Anyone could see he was a gorgeous child and would be a devastatingly handsome man someday.

Hillary carried Zander’s
Thor
backpack. “Hello, Angie.” Her greeting, although friendly, wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as her son’s had been.

I wouldn’t exactly say that Hillary and I were friends, but we were cordial, and if she didn’t happen to be my boyfriend’s ex-wife, I probably would have liked her a lot more.

“This is a surprise,” I said. “You need quilting supplies?”

“Didn’t James tell you that I’d be dropping Zander by? I have a charity event this evening in Canton for my job, and I can’t take him with me. Since this was supposed to be James’s week with Zander as it was, he said I could leave Z with you until he got off work.”

I removed my phone from my pocket and looked at the screen. Sure enough, there were six text messages and one call from Mitchell warning me about Hillary’s arrival. I had turned the phone onto silent before going into the Zeff Oak Emporium because I hadn’t wanted to be interrupted by my mother’s ranting about my father’s physical therapy.

I waved the phone. “He sure did. I just missed the message. Of course Zander can hang with me.”

“Good.” Her brow smoothed. “James said he’ll pick him up around eight.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

She paused at the door. “You must be excited about James’s parents coming up for a visit for a few days. It will be the first time you will meet them in person—isn’t that right?”

I felt the color drain from my face. What? What was she talking about? Mitchell’s parents were coming to Rolling Brook? I knew the couple moved to Florida and had lived there for years. Mitchell and Zander went to see them at least twice per year. I had never gone, and I had never met them. Mitchell had asked me to go their last trip, which had been over Zander’s spring break in March. I had made up some excuse about not being able to leave the shop. I just hadn’t been ready to meet Mitchell’s parents yet.

I plastered a smile on my face. “I’m really excited to meet them.”

Mattie knew about the trip last March. Her face clearly said, “Liar!”

I widened my eyes at her, and she turned away but not before I saw her shoulders move up and down in suppressed laughter.

I realized this must have been what Mitchell wanted to tell me the day before. He hadn’t been about to propose marriage at all. To my surprise, I felt a slight pang in my chest. A blush crept up the back of my neck.

Hillary smiled at me. “I love James’s mother. She and I have always been close. Do you know she still
sends me Christmas and birthday cards? And we talk on the phone at least twice a month. She’s such a dear.”

“That’s great,” I squeaked. “I’m glad that you’re still close to Mitchell’s family. That makes it easier for Zander.”

She smiled. “It most certainly does.” She opened the door. “Don’t worry, Angie. James’s mother will warm up to you. Eventually.” She flounced out of the shop.

What was that supposed to mean?

Mattie left not long after Hillary’s dramatic exit. She didn’t say if she was headed to the mercantile to visit Liam, and I didn’t ask. That left me with a cat, a dog, and a boy.

I texted Mitchell back and told him that I had Zander with me at Running Stitch and he could pick his son up at the shop because I planned to work late. I didn’t say a word about the trustees’ meeting. I hoped that it would be over by the time Mitchell arrived. I didn’t think he wanted to hear another word about Bigfoot or the central Ohio chapter of the Bigfooter Society.

“You’ve got homework?” I asked Zander, who was rolling around on the shop floor with Oliver and Dodger.

He rolled onto his back with Oliver on his stomach. “Yep.”

“Do you want to do it?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s Friday night.”

“I’ll take that as a no. Do you want pizza?”

“Yes!” He sat up with a jolt.

The cat and dog meowed and barked respectively. Pizza was something we could all agree on.

“Should I order brownies too?” I asked.

The pizza place also made killer brownies.

“Yes!” Zander pumped his fist. “You always get the best junk food, Angie.” His voice held true respect.

I was going to be a stellar parent.

The four of us were polishing off what was left of the pizza, and Zander and I were moving onto the brownies, when a rapid knock at the Running Stitch’s locked front door interrupted us.

“Who’s that?” Zander asked with a mouth full of brownie.

“It might be one of the township trustees. We’re having a meeting here tonight.”

He swallowed. “That sounds boring.”

Because I was the grown-up, I didn’t agree with him. Out loud. The meetings usually were boring, but considering this meeting’s subject matter was Bigfoot, I thought it had the potential to be a little more animated than usual.

I brushed the crumbs from the brownie off the front of my shirt and opened the door.

Willow trundled in carrying an easel. “Zander! Hello! So glad to see you.”

Zander shoved a brownie into his mouth and said, “Hi” with a mouth full of chocolate.

“What’s with the easel?” I asked with some concern. I knew it was trouble when Willow used props.

She set up the easel in front of the wall of fabric. “Caroline asked me to come to this meeting with a plan for the Bigfooters, and I have.”

I inched toward the easel. “Can I see?”

She moved in front of it and held out her arms. “No, it would ruin the surprise.”

I had a sinking feeling. The only surprises I’d experienced from Willow involved her teas. I couldn’t see this one being much better.

A little before seven, the rest of the trustees entered the shop. Caroline frowned when she saw Zander there, playing on his iPod, but she made no comment.

She settled into one of the folding chairs I’d set up in front of Willow’s easel.

“What’s with the easel?” Jason Rustle asked. He was still wearing the business suit that he must have worn to his office that morning.

Willow clapped her hands in front of herself. “I have a plan for the Bigfooters, just like you requested, Caroline.” She beamed.

Farley rubbed his hands together. “We are all here; let’s get this meeting started. I, for one, can’t wait to see what Willow has in store for us.”

Caroline scowled. “
I
will be the one who decides when the meeting will begin.” She took a dramatic pause. “Willow, will you begin your presentation?”

Jason Rustle stared longingly at the door. I knew he’d give anything to bolt. I sort of felt the same way, but since the meeting was in my shop, I was trapped.

“Thank you, Caroline,” Willow said formally. “As all of you know, there are a number of Bigfoot believers in Rolling Brook because of the recent sightings around the home of Angie’s parents.” She nodded to me. “The Bigfooters are here and don’t plan to leave until they see Bigfoot or it is proven that it was all a hoax—”

“Because you told them about the supposed sighting,” Jason grumbled.

“Be that as it may,” Willow said evenly, “I believe we can use their presence for the good of the town.” She stepped back and flipped around a large piece of poster board sitting on the easel. In giant block letters in the middle of the poster board, it read, “Bigfoot Day! Join us in Rolling Brook this Saturday to learn about the myth and legend!”

The rest of the trustees, including myself, just stared.

“Cool!” Zander said. “I love Bigfoot.”

Willow grinned. “Me too!”

“You have a nine-year-old on board,” Jason said. “A resounding endorsement indeed.”

“Not cool,” Caroline said, standing up. “Not cool at all. We’re already the laughingstock of the county. Don’t you see that this will only make it worse?”

“Saturday is tomorrow,” Jason said. “How can we plan it in time?”

Willow grinned. “That’s the beauty of it. There’s nothing to plan. My friend Ray, the president of the local chapter of the Bigfooter Society has T-shirts and other merchandise to sell, and the society has ready-made presentations. All we need to provide is a location right here on Sugartree Street.”

“There is no way this is happening,” Caroline protested. “I don’t give my time to manage this township in order to be mocked!”

“I really thought you would like it.” Willow’s face fell. “I know it’s a little outside of the box . . .”

Caroline closed her eyes as if she couldn’t stand to look at Willow.

Jason leaned close to me and whispered, “She’s gonna blow in three . . . two . . . one—”

“Willow, how can you do this without consulting with the trustees? This is not the first time you’ve gone off on your own to plan an event. We can’t just throw something together. A street fair takes planning. Not to mention, we don’t want to do anything to tarnish Rolling Brook’s reputation.”

“Actually,” Farley said, speaking up for the first time since Willow’s big reveal, “I think Willow’s plan is the best we have to go on. These Bigfooters aren’t going away, and it seems that more are coming each day. With the weekend coming, I’m afraid that the numbers will rise. Why not take advantage of it?”

Caroline gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” he said. “If we fight it, the other communities in the county will only get more enjoyment about poking fun at us. It’s best to embrace it and show that we can laugh at ourselves.”

I found myself nodding. Farley had a point. I could tell by the look on Jason’s face he was considering it too.

“Farley!” Caroline cried.

He smiled at her. “We can’t run these people out of the township with shovels and pitchforks, so we might as well make some tax dollars off their time here.”

“Yeah, it makes sense when it is presented that way,” Jason said. “I think it’s the best course of action.”

Willow grinned. “Should we put it to a vote?”

“I say yea,” Farley said.

Jason and I agreed.

“But!” Caroline stared at us openmouthed.

Jason stood. “Now that we have decided about the Bigfooters, is the meeting over? I have some real work for my real job this evening.”

Farley, Willow, and I stood too.

Caroline fell into her seat. “You’re all in agreement that this is a good idea? That we should cater to these—these people?”

“They won’t be here much longer,” I said. “If no one sees a Bigfoot this weekend, they will leave of their own accord, and I have it on good authority that it’s a practical joke. Someone saw Bigfoot’s sneakers.”

“Really?” Willow asked, sounding disappointed, but she quickly recovered. “Don’t worry. None of you will have to do a thing for Bigfoot Day other than stop by Sugartree Street to join in the fun.”

Caroline groaned, covering her face with her hands.

As the trustees were leaving at the end of the meeting, Jason stopped me. “I heard about Griffin dying at your parents’ house. Bad break.”

“Did you know him?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, but one of my old business partners used to be an insurance investigator. He knew Griffin from that. I guess he had to adjust a job where an Amish man got killed on one of Griffin’s jobsites.”

“When was this?”

“Years ago. Not really sure.”

“Thirty years ago?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes. “No way that long ago, Angie. How old do you think I am?”

So that ruled out the fire that killed Raymond’s wife.

“Was the Amish man named Kamon Graber?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not it. It was an Amish name, but not one as unusual as Kamon. I would have remembered one so unusual. I do remember that it wasn’t even in Holmes County.”